


Gråtrunka

by Soobiebear



Category: Opeth (Band), Porcupine Tree
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soobiebear/pseuds/Soobiebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a gift for Mr.Cain. The prompt was 'Steven Wilson,Mikael Akerfeldt (Porcupine Tree,Opeth): crossdressing :O <3 .'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gråtrunka

Steven's phone buzzed on his bedside table. Grabbing his glasses and sliding them on, he picked up his phone.

A text from Mikael. At 7am.

Rubbing underneath his glasses, he refocused and unlocked his screen, waiting a few seconds for his homescreen to load. He opened the message and thudded his head back on his pillow.

(Send dick pic please)

Well, at least he asked nicely.

Steven's arm dropped into the heavy duvet covering his bed. He couldn't be serious, Mikael was never awake this early in the morning.

He opted to ignore the message and tried to get back to sleep, too tired to even remove his glasses.

His phone buzzed in his hand. With a grunt he unlocked it again, rolling over on his side.

(Horny)

Was all it said. Steven typed out a straight to the point response and hit send. Mike needed to call back at a more human hour.

(Fuck off. Sleeping.)

Steven knew he'd already lost. Mikael would keep talking until he got what he wanted, or drove Steven to take the battery out of his phone.

His phone buzzed again, this time it was just a picture. Steven squinted at it before enlarging it.

The contrast was terrible, the flash bleaching out most of the center while the dark edges disappeared into nothing. Still, even by the morning sun he could make out the pale skin, dark thatch of hair, and white lace.

His eyes moved over the image again. The lace stretched over the erection underneath. That was Mikael, no mistaking it.

(Lonely)

More awake now, Steven rolled on his belly and let his weight push his cock into the warm sheets.

(Yummmmm looks good)

He had to click on the photo again, the cheap thrill not something Mikael would normally send. He saved the image and hoped nothing happened to his SD card. There was no way he was sending this to his cloud.

(Wore them onstage tonight. So hard.)

Steven's eye widened. Kinky motherfucker. The mental image of Mikael singing while the white lace clung to his cock sent Steven's hand into his flannel pants.

(What are you doing?)

He knew what Mikael was doing, but was curious as to what brought it on. It wasn't his normal modus operandi. His fingers had curled around his length and were leisurely stroking, trying to burn the lace clad image into his neurons.

(Gråtrunka)

Mikael had used that term before - there wasn't a direct translation but he knew the feeling.

(Where are you?)

Hopefully he wasn't hiding from his wife and kids again. He did mention wearing them on stage, but Steven couldn't remember if he was out touring or just having a night out to a pub.

(Dallas)

Oh. Steven's heart ached. That explained the photo quality; stuck in his bus bunk, trying to get some quiet relief, constantly surrounded by people and yet utterly alone.

Steven drew down the duvet and sheet, pushing his pajama bottoms down his hips. He tapped the camera app and with a click he snapped a picture of himself. His thumb was in the photo, holding his stiff cock. Mikael would have to deal with it.

He sent the photo, lazily stroking himself while he waited for Mikael's response. Reaching out to his bedside table, he pulled out his bottle of lube, pouring out a small squirt in his palm and working it over his length.

(Fuck that's hot)

Smirking, Steven wiped his greasy fingers on the sheet and grabbed his phone with both hands. Texting with one hand was difficult at best.

(Wish you were here I'd suck your cock)

His hand drifted back under the sheet, working over himself as he again waited Mikael's reply. The pauses between messages was killing him, his imagination filling in the things Mikael was doing in the privacy of his bunk.

Mikael sent back another picture in lieu of a text. The white panties were bunched under his cock, the hardened flesh rising out from its fabric jail. Mikael's hand was wrapped around the shaft, the head cradled by his fingers.

Steven swallowed, eyes roaming over the delicious photo.

(Why did you pull the panties down?)

He knew he wasn't good at dirty talk, and left most of that to Mikael. He pulled himself upright in the bed, leaning against the headboard where it was easier to type and jack off.

Mikael sent him another picture, this time his erection was covered by the lace, head sticking out from the top elastic band.

(So hard)

Mikael finally broke his silence, even without hearing his voice Steven knew he was starting to lose it. It was time to step things up a bit, even if it meant putting his own needs on hold.

(Are you wanking?)

BT was going to love him for the data charges this month. He didn't wait for Mikael to text back.

(I am)  
  
(Those panties look hot on you. I'd love to lick you through them)

Hopefully Mikael's hands would be too busy to respond.

(Gonna have u wear some next time I see you)

Steven paused to stroke himself, the image of Mikael in this bed in women's underwear was somehow fascinating, even if it was something he'd never considered before.

(I'd jerk off over them just to tease you)  
  
(Then I'd wrap my lips around you and suck you dry)

Steven was having troubles typing, the two handed technique leaving him unfulfilled and one handed approach not allowing him to go fast. He gave up, focusing on stroking his cock and imagining Mikael was here and not somewhere in America.

How much longer would their damn tour go on?

Steven closed his eyes, visions of Mikael in women's underwear dancing behind his eyelids. Just deviant enough to be enjoyable, not so far twisted that is would cause problems.

His phone buzzed again, another photo. He clicked and enlarged it, the familiar flat, pale belly with it's scruffy trail of hair and a newly added smear of wetness. Mikael had gotten off.

(Done?)

He could feel the sleepy sedatedness from across the ocean. He paused his hand, waiting again on a reply.

(Sleep)

Mikael always crashed after getting off. Steven was actually surprised he got a response.

(Goodnight, talk tomorrow)

He turned off the screen knowing there wouldn't be any more messages. Roused for the morning, he reached for the lube and started making it an even better morning.


End file.
